A/N: Ooh, I didn't think this would be that popular. Cara, I think we've got a winner.

Have you ever been in a situation where you know you're supposed to be there but you really think that you shouldn't be? Or like when you see something so disgusting but you can't turn away?

I'm in one of those lovely predicaments right now.

I know I'm supposed to be at this rehab place. I mean, it's not like Vince told me to enter into rehab and I was going to say no, no, no. Damn you, Santino Marella. Getting that song stuck in my head…

Where was I?

Oh yeah.

So, I realize that I was ordered to be here, you know? That's cool. But I really feel out of place. Rehab was one place I never thought I'd be…for more than one reason. The way I'm feeling is kind of like when someone watches ECW. You know you have to watch it because it's wrestling. Any wrestling is good wrestling, unless it's Kelly Kelly versus Layla. That's what I like to call "the WWE sponsored bathroom break of ECW." But when Big Daddy V comes out, you just think that you shouldn't be watching this junk. That then ties into my second point. You see him storming down to the ring with Matt Striker, and you're disgusted beyond recognition…but you can't turn away. Yeah, his boobs are nasty, but they're like…mesmerizing. I swear, those tattoos are hypnotic because I can't look away, even though his boobs are bigger than Jillian fucking Hall's.

Right…rehab center.

I must look like a real dumbass right now. Hell, I probably look like a druggie to all of these people. The receptionist is giving me shady looks. Maybe I should have shaved. Nope. Too lazy.

"Hello, I'm CM Punk from the WWE," I said, introducing myself to the very receptionist lady that was shifting her eyes around me as if I was John Cena trying to wrestle.

"You're the guest speaker on living a drug free lifestyle?"

Yeah, I guess I should have shaved. "Yeah, I am."

Ah, now she's looking at me…a bit too much. I mean, I know I'm highly attractive, but this is ridiculous. She's like staring at me or something.

"Um…according to our schedule…"

Yeah, she's making that up. She's flipping through her date book right now. She's got that flustered look on her face. Hm, what's her name? Phyllis? That's my grandma's name. Are you kidding me?

"Is there a problem, Phyllis?" Shit, I almost started laughing.

She quick glanced up at me. Ah, back to the darting eyes, are we? I could freak her out and do the same thing, but that probably wouldn't be very appropriate. "No, there's no problem. We just have you going around to the various rooms and visiting some select patients before you talk in front of the whole group."

"Cool beans, Phyllis. Where do I start?"

Phyllis's jaw dropped. Is "cool beans" too new school for her?

"Well…Just go to room 110 to visit our youngest patient, Kenny. And then go to…" She dragged her old decrepit finger down her patient list. "…room 123 with one of our more angry patients, Alana. Are you up for a challenge, Mr. Punk?"

"Always. Thank you, Phyllis."

"No problem, Mr. Punk. The rooms are down the hallway to the left."

I kind of want to do the McMahon strut that John Morrison and I have been perfecting recently, but I don't think that would be very appropriate in this milieu. I found room 110, so I knocked on the door and the person inside told me to come in.

"Holy fuck, you're CM Punk." Again with the staring.

"Yeah. Are you in rehab for swearing?" Maybe that wasn't an appropriate joke, but little Kenny here found it amusing.

"Nah, none of these hags could ever get me to fucking stop swearing." I like this kid.

"What's up, Kenny?" I asked, shaking his hand. "I heard you're the youngest one here."

"Yeah, I'm only 21, but you're never too young to fuck up."

"It happens," I said honestly. I'm not going to admonish this kid for being here. I mean, it's a huge step for him even being here in the first place. "So, are you a wrestling fan? I mean, you must be since you knew who I was."

He pointed up at the television in the upper corner of the room. "It's the only thing I watch. My parents send me a DVD or two every month. And thank god this place has cable, because I'd probably have a bitch fit if I couldn't watch RAW every week."

"Hey, what about ECW?"

"I don't like Chavo."

"Point taken." Damn, I really like this kid. "So, who's your favorite Superstar?"

"Kenny Dykstra," he grinned. I saw that coming. How did I see that coming? This kid could be his twin brother or something.

We sat there for about half an hour talking about wrestling. If I was older, I'd steal this kid from his parents and adopt him. I don't think he'd mind. I told him that I had to go visit some pissed off chick named Alana. His eyes bugged out at me and he just said, "Good luck."

Damn.

So I headed down to room 124, my wrists twitching a bit. They really wanted to do the strut, but I'm too damn nervous now. I'm afraid that I'm going to die.

I knocked on the door, and a woman's voice answered. "What the fuck do you want?" Shit.

"I'm the guy from the WWE that's here today, and--"

"Are you going to come in or do I have to drag you in myself?" Phyllis was right. The bitch is angry.

I went into the room and walked over to the couch where she was sitting and reading a magazine that she still hadn't looked up from yet. I plopped down onto the chair next to the couch and went to introduce myself. "Hi, I'm CM--"

"I know who you are. I'm not an idiot." She finally looked up and squinted at me.

How come the bitchy ones are always fucking gorgeous? She had black hair with some blonde streaks in it and cold gray eyes. She was kind of like a hot Amy Winehouse…sort of. She also had her lip and septum pierced. Damn, that nose ring had to hurt.

"So…"

"You must think you're really cool, don't you?" she asked. Huh? "That Kenny kid has been running around like a chicken with his head cut off since he found out that you were coming today."

"No, I'm not cool. Look, you don't have to get angry with me…"

"I'm not getting angry with you. This is just the way I am."

"If it makes you feel any better, I have an addiction, too."

"What, pain?" she smiled, looking over my tattoos, lip ring, and tongue piercing.

"This coming from the girl with a ring in the middle of her nose? And you should know that getting your lip pierced doesn't hurt at all."

She ignored me and started flipping through her magazine. "Aren't you the guy who is the big asshole to the fans?" she asked.

I almost wanted to ask her if she had been talking to my ex girlfriend. "They caught me on a bad day," I told her honestly.

"Mr. Punk, it's time," Phyllis said, interrupting this awkward conversation.

"Alana?" I had just one more thing to say to her before being dragged off by Phyllis, the fire breathing receptionist.

"What?"

"For the record, my addiction is wrestling."

"Don't let them hear you say that. They might enroll you in this hellhole."

"Not a chance in hell."